


The Fifty-First Day

by JennLynn77



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Bottom Sherlock, Cuddling & Snuggling, Developing Sherlock Holmes/John Watson, Emotional Sex, Hand Job, Johnlock Roulette, Loving Sex, M/M, Mention of Mrs. Hudson and Mycroft, POV First Person, Patient John, Rosie says three words, She's only two in this story, Sherlock actually seems to like them, Sherlock's POV, So many endearments, Top John, Virgin Sherlock, cum licking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-05
Updated: 2017-11-05
Packaged: 2019-01-29 18:23:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,073
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12636633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennLynn77/pseuds/JennLynn77
Summary: Seven weeks.John and I decided to be together seven weeks ago yesterday. The last forty-nine days have shown me things of which I’d never deemed myself capable. For instance, fifty days ago, the thought of someone running their fingers through my hair and across my scalp made my skin crawl. Knowing that people can speak and touch with reverence and adoration, my skin now tingles with delight.





	The Fifty-First Day

**Author's Note:**

> This is my fourth story for the BBC Sherlock fandom, and my second with an explicit rating. The tags pretty much tell you the plot. Virgin Sherlock is a kink of mine, and I wanted to try my hand at writing it. I'm American, and did my best (with the help of the internet) to change any Americanisms to their proper British counterpart. If there are any glaring errors, spelling, grammar or otherwise that prevent your enjoyment of this work, please let me know. I love kudos and adore comments, so let me know what you think if you finish the story! Thanks for reading!

The Fifty-First Day  
  
Seven weeks.

John and I decided to be together seven weeks ago yesterday. The last forty-nine days have shown me things of which I’d never deemed myself capable. For instance, fifty days ago, the thought of someone running their fingers through my hair and across my scalp made my skin crawl. Knowing that people can speak and touch with reverence and adoration, my skin now tingles with delight.  
  
Today, I decided that John and I should become more intimate. I knew this decision would greatly please him, and therefore, it would please me as well. When John is happy, I’ve noticed that directly correlates to my own happiness. Strange, that. Before meeting John, I never much noticed the moods of others. Or cared about them, in fact. I’m still not where I’d like to be, in terms of understanding interpersonal relationships with those I’d call my friends. John makes me want to be better. To do better. He has been my guide in all things these last eight years. I’ve called him my conductor of light many times before. Most times, his reaction to those endearments were to raise a sceptical eyebrow. These last seven weeks, I’ve been calling him my conductor of life. That sentiment has, of late, produced four crooked grins, and two forehead kisses.  
  
Forehead kisses. I like those. Much more than I ever thought I would. Mainly, because I’d never thought I’d have cause to receive one, let alone the amount of them John has bestowed upon me. His lips are always so soft, despite his habit of nibbling at them, and he conveys such a sweetness through that action alone. Despite all of our years together, I still have so much to learn from him.  
  
And with that thought, I decided that it was time to let John show me all the things I’d never known I’d wanted to see. I spent five hours researching online. I tried to shield Rosie’s eyes from the computer screen as I clicked and scrolled around the internet. It was difficult at times to see, as she squirmed on my lap and has recently taken to tugging on my hair. She and I have become quite the pair in the last year.  
  
She and John moved in with me shortly after her second birthday. Most evenings, John would come home from the surgery and have dinner with me before returning home. He would drop Rosie off on his way to work, and I would watch her for the duration of his shift. As soon as I’d see him begin to collect Rosie’s toys off the floor about an hour after finishing our dinner, I would tilt my head to the side and then down, unable to watch his motions. I tried to hide my disappointment, but, as ever, John was more observant than I’d given him credit for. He slowly began to lengthen their visits. He’d let Rosie fall asleep on his chair while we sat on the floor chatting and then say he’d hate to wake her to take her home. My clever John.  
  
And so it went. Months went by, longer and longer evenings spent in the sitting room, talking about everything we'd never let ourselves say. The longer conversations usually involved apologies. From the both of us. John was overwrought with guilt after the Culverton Smith case. He wanted to hear nothing of my admonishments of his guilt. After that evening, after a lot of scotch and a few tears, another embrace was had on the sitting room floor. I also told of my time in Serbia, lifted my worn t-shirt and showed him my back. After a gasp, he thoughtfully traced a few of the worst scars with his fingertips and thanked me for caring so much for him. He has no idea that I would do it again if he was ever in that sort of danger.  
  
During the reconstruction after the events of Sherrinford, we both decided to rebuild John’s old bedroom with the intent of it being available to John if he decided to stay over on nights he was able to join me on a case. A cot and supplies were purchased for Rosie. Her snacks and food were placed in the cabinet next to John’s favourite tea and spare jars of my favourite jam. To an outsider, it would appear the three of us were a sort of family. I know it did to me.  
  
I didn’t realize it appeared that way to John until a few weeks later. I noticed one Saturday afternoon. I’d offered to go to the shops to pick up a few things for ourselves. After the initial shock and surprise, John told me he wanted to take Rosie out to run a few errands of their own. Upon my return, I noticed a plethora of items that were not my own, scattered about the flat. A new cup-holder on the bathroom counter, which now contained two toothbrushes. I opened the loo cabinets and found children’s pain and cold medicine. Alongside those items, were a Peppa Pig themed toothbrush and toothpaste. I tiptoed out of the loo and down the hall, and quickly and quietly opened and closed the door from the kitchen and made my way to the hallway. I avoided the creaky floorboard at the base of the stairs leading to John’s old room and made my way to the second floor. I pushed the door open and immediately took a step back. More of Rosie’s stuffed toys were in her cot. A few boxes of nappies and wipes were stacked in the corner. A bag from Tesco filled with baby supplies. With trepidation, I stepped towards the wardrobe. A combination of John’s and Rosie’s clothes were now hung inside. I turned and opened one of the drawers in the chest of drawers. John’s jumpers, all folded with military consideration. I hastily opened and closed them all, and all of them were filled with John’s and Rosie’s belongings. I turned towards the bed and saw a book on the bedside table. I backed up towards the door and raised my hands to my mouth. Not understanding what I was seeing, but also feeling a conflicted warmth in my stomach. I made to turn around and exit the room, but bumped into John, Rosie tucked against his left side. She reached her hand out to me and I took it instinctively. As she curled her small fingers around my right index finger, I nervously looked up at John.  
  
“I wanted to ask you first. I swear. But you offered to go shopping this morning, and I decided to take Rosie home and get her a change of clothes and put some more supplies in her nappy bag while you were gone. As I packed those things for her, I couldn’t make myself stop. Her nappy bag, turned into me packing my duffle, which then led to me packing my large suitcase. On a scale of a locked room murder case, to three weeks without a word from Lestrade, how angry are you?”  
  
I grazed my thumb across Rosie’s chubby fingers and raised my eyes to meet John’s.  
  
“I find myself oddly delighted, John.”  
  
 _________________________________________________________________________  
  
After that afternoon, John and Rosie rarely spent a night away from Baker Street. Two days ago, John on his Friday shift at the surgery, and myself, armed with my newly acquired knowledge of male intimacy, I tucked Rosie in her pushchair and we made our way to the shops.  
  
I managed to arrive home an hour before John was to return from work. I brought all of my purchases into my bedroom and arranged them on my bedside table. As I closed the door behind me, I decided to order a takeaway for dinner that night.  
  
I sat on my chair, Rosie on my lap, and waited for John to arrive. I could hear his light, almost effervescent steps, as he climbed to our flat. I tried to nervously swallow against the lump in my throat. At forty-two years old, I was going to attempt to lose my virginity that night.  
  
John pushed the door to the flat open with a smile. “Well, look at you two! What a sight for my sore eyes!”  
  
As he approached, he reached out his left arm and brought his hand to Rosie’s curly blond hair. He leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head. As he stood, his smile grew wider, and he reached towards me and did the same thing to me. “Have my two loves been sitting here all day?”  
  
Well. I guessed that was a good a time as any.  
  
“About that. Rosie and I went out for a bit and I made a stop at Tesco. Could you do me a favour and step into my bedroom and let me know if I’ve forgotten anything?”  
  
“Anything for what, Sherlock?’  
  
“Trust me, once you see the assortment, you’ll know exactly what ‘anything’ means.”  
  
With a light scratch across my scalp, John left the room and walked towards my bedroom. I heard an audible gasp from down the hall a few seconds later and looked up to the ceiling. ‘ _Idiot. You should have spoken to him before going this far. Stupid. STUPID_.’  I sighed and continued to mentally self-flagellate. I must’ve been in that position for a few minutes, because the next thing I knew, John was back in the room. He was next to me and had placed his left hand on my right shoulder.  
  
“Are you sure about this, Sherlock? I don’t want you to feel like you’re obligated to do that if you’re not ready or not really interested in it. The way things have been with us the last two months has been absolutely fantastic for me.”  
  
“While I appreciate your concern, I do think that I am able to come to this decision on my own. I wish to lose my virginity, with you, as soon as you are amenable.”  
  
“Well, I’d hope you’d want that to happen with me!” John managed to say through a hearty, yet somewhat apprehensive, laugh. “We’ve never really discussed this aspect of our relationship before now.”  
  
“I realize now that I should have probably discussed this with you before presenting it to you this way. Apologies.” I nodded to emphasize my point.   
  
“There’s no need to apologize, Sherlock. Really. I’m honestly quite chuffed that you want to go down that road with me.”  
  
“John, we’ve been on the same road for almost a decade. Even when I was away, I always felt your presence beside me. These last two months, instead of just walking side-by-side, we’re walking this road with our hands clasped together.”  
  
John’s face crumpled. His hand moved from my shoulder to my chin. He dragged his thumb across my jaw.  
  
“Sherlock… I sincerely don’t know how to respond to that.”  
  
“Just say yes?”  
  
“Okay, Sherlock. Yes. Whenever you’re ready.”  
  
I anxiously raised my eyes to his. “I may or may not have asked Mrs. Hudson to watch Rosie for us overnight. She’s going to keep her through breakfast tomorrow morning. I also may or may not have ordered from your favourite Indian restaurant for our dinner tonight.”  
  
“Sherlock Holmes, are you trying to seduce me?”  
  
“That would depend entirely on if all of this was working to convince you to take me to bed tonight.”  
  
A smile returned to John’s face. He leaned down again and pressed a kiss to the tip of my nose; his thumb now lightly pressed against my cheek.  
  
“Consider me convinced, Sherlock.”  
  
Dinner arrived soon after our conversation. As Rosie smushed her hands in the rice I ordered for her, she actually managed to get quite a bit of it in her mouth. As we ate, I could feel John’s socked foot sliding up and down my ankle. He winked at me as he slid his foot further until he reached my knee. I nearly choked on my Biryani.  
  
John smiled around his mouthful of Chana Masala. “You okay, Sherlock?” His toes were curling around my knee and then worked their way up to my inner thigh. “If you are, I can promise more of the same after we’re finished with dinner.”  
  
I cleared my throat nervously and began to gather up the leftovers to put them in the refrigerator. John started to laugh as he dropped his fork on his plate. Rosie froze, hand overflowing with rice as she gaped at John and then at me. He laughed harder as he leaned across the table and ruffled her hair.  
  
“Eat up, sweetheart. Daddy and Sherlock have some things to talk about tonight. Do you want to have a sleepover with Nana Hudson tonight, love?”  
  
At the mention of Mrs. Hudson, her eyes grew comically wide.

“Nana! Nana! Nana!”

“Oh! That’s what I thought!” He turned back to me as I stood rooted to the floor, styrofoam containers in my hands. “Sherlock. I wasn’t trying to rush you. Finish your meal.”  
  
“I think I’m quite unable to eat anymore at the moment.” Without my consent, my lips curled in an uneven smile and my eyes involuntarily showed my anxiety. John eyed me warily for a moment before he spoke.  
  
“How about you finish cleaning up the kitchen and I’ll clean up little Miss Rice Face and get her settled downstairs with Mrs. Hudson.”  
  
I quickly nodded my assent before my brain could convince me to change my mind and scrap this whole plan. John gathered up Rosie and took her into the loo to give her a bath while I straightened up the kitchen. As I was putting the washed and dried utensils away, I could hear John whispering to Rosie as they walked past and then through the kitchen door to head to the stairwell.   
  
An idea occurred to me after I heard the door to our flat close behind John. I quickly made my way down the hall to my bedroom, shucked off my clothes, and climbed into bed, pulling the duvet to my chin. This would prevent the awkwardness of disrobing in front of each other. Unfortunately, Mrs. Hudson was feeling a bit chatty and had just boiled a pot of tea as John entered her flat with Rosie. Two cups of tea and three biscuits later, John returned to the flat and arrived to a pitch black sitting room, without a Sherlock to be found. He wandered into the loo to relieve himself of the tea he’d drunk, and opened the door to my bedroom to see me asleep. He shook his head with a laugh. “Another night, then.” he whispered to the dark room.  
  
I woke a few hours later, an unknown warmth against my back. I went to move my left arm and found it to be pressed against my stomach. I glanced down and saw John’s arm draped across my belly, holding me tight to his chest. I could feel the prickly hairs there scratching at my back as he drew and released each breath. I sighed in contentment but I also felt the loss of our plans sink inside my heart. I pressed back against John’s warm chest and let myself sleep. Tomorrow was another day.  
  
______________________________________________________________________________________  


I woke again later, a warm puff of air across my face. I pressed the left side of my face into my pillow. It didn’t feel like a pillow. I pressed down further and felt wiry hairs on my temple. I inhaled slowly, the smell of stale deodorant mixed with sleep-warm skin. Slowly, I opened my eyes and was presented with a pectoral dusted with honey-colored hair. I glanced up, and was greeted by John’s Prussian blue eyes. I could see the smile in his eyes before I even saw the rest of his face.

“Good morning _. Finally_.“ he said with mock annoyance. He tightened his right arm around my upper back and kissed my forehead. I really do like those.

“Hi.” I replied simply. As I woke up, I began to realize that I should be embarrassed about what didn’t happen last night.

“You sleep well, Sherlock?” I could see by his face that he’d been awake for some time before me. I wondered what he saw if he’d been looking at me.

“I watched you sleep, Sherlock. You’re lovely, you know that? Really, truly, just an absolute wonder.”

Oh shit. I’d thought I’d kept my monologue internal.

“Yes, you did say that out loud. Just say what you’re thinking, love. No need to keep it up here.” He lifted his right arm and lightly tapped my left temple. I felt my face flush.

Wait. Love?

“Yes, Sherlock. I just called you love. Is that okay? Too sappy for us?”

Christ, I said it out loud AGAIN.

“I don’t really know how I feel about those sorts of things. I’m not used to endearments. Unless you count ‘freak’ among them.”

“No, I do not.” He broke eye contact with me for a second, seemingly suddenly intrigued by my nose. “I just look at you sometimes, and, uh, I feel like. Like I’m not really letting you fully know how I feel. How I feel about you and you and me. Sometimes, it feels like me just saying your name isn’t quite enough. Everyone calls you by your name.”

“I like the way you say my name the best, if that’s any consolation.” I replied, trying for a bit of levity.  John’s eyes grew serious.

“I love you so much. I don’t really know how to say that to you without seeming like the sentimental fool you think I am.”

“Your sentimentality is so much of the reason why I love you, John.”

At that, John tilted his head and he blinked hard with such purpose. Despite his attempt to hide it, I could see a wetness forming under his eyelids. I shuffled in his arms and kissed them both, then on the crinkled skin between them.

“I do love you, John. More than anyone I’ve ever known. I’m glad that we’re finally talking about these things so openly. I’m always afraid to let people see me like this. I’m so happy that I can trust you with my heart.”

“Sherlock. Christ.”

“John? Um, about what didn’t get to happen last night... I’d really like to do that. With you. Now, if that’s okay.”

“Really? You’re sure?”

“I’ve been hesitant to show exactly how sentimental I am to others. Showing my vulnerability to you doesn’t really frighten me anymore. It hasn’t for most of our acquaintance.”

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John?” I eyed him quizzically.

“Would you allow me the honour of taking you to bed?”

“John. We’re already in bed.”

“It’s an expression, you numpty.” he ruffled my hair at my basic misunderstanding of an apparently popular colloquialism.

“Sherlock?”

“Yes, John?”

“Would you allow me the honour of making love to you, in this bed, right now?” That’s my John. Being direct is always a better way to get your point across when speaking to me.

I nodded enthusiastically. Not entirely sure where that came from.

John let out a stuttered laugh. “Glad to see that commitment, Sherlock. Come here.”

He slid his arms from around me and placed his hands under my armpits and turned onto his back, dragging me on top of him.

My eyes grew wide. I’d forgotten we were both already naked. “Hi.” I said stupidly. He placed both hands at the nape of my neck and pulled me closer, chastely pressing my lips to his. “Hi, yourself.”

I smiled. He pulled back and then pressed forward, both lips along my bottom lip, lightly tugging a bit with his teeth. I felt his tongue, silky and slippery. I opened my mouth, giving him silent permission inside. I want to see him, watch his eyes, deduce what he’s feeling, but the feeling of his lips against mine made me close my eyes and release a soft moan instead.  

John released my face and slid his hands up and down my back as he said, “That was lovely.” He looked a bit tipsy.

“I think I’m a bit drunk on you.”

Shit. Again?

“You kind of look the same, you know.”

He tucks a curl behind my right ear and slides his other hand to the small of my back. “You all right?”

I swallow hard. “Yes. I’m more than all right.”

His right-hand slides to the cleft of my buttocks. He slowly and deliberately held my gaze. “You ready, sweetheart?”

My breath caught in my throat at the endearment. The tenderness in his voice. I could only nod my response.

He brought his right hand between our faces and said, “Lick my finger, love.”

He told me to get it nice and wet. So I did.

He lowered his hand again and I felt his wet finger lightly graze over my hole. The pad of his finger pressed against it gently, and then he dragged it in circles for a few seconds.

“I need you to relax for me, okay?”

I lowered my head and settled myself on his chest, curling my back. He brought his left hand to my back and soothingly ran it up and down along my spine, up and over and down again, across my scars. His heart was pounding against my temple.

I felt the tip of his finger push inside, and I immediately tensed. The thumb on the same hand brushed across my right cheek.

“Easy. I need you to unclench for me.”

I took a deep breath and kissed his chest on the exhale.

“There you go. Does that feel good? Is this okay?”

I nodded against his chest. It felt strange. But a part of John was inside me. That could never be a bad thing.

“Yes. Yes. Yes, it does.”

I felt myself slide down a bit on John’s chest, pressing his finger a bit further inside me.

“I’m so glad, Sherlock. I want to make this good for you. I want to make you feel so very good.”

“You are. You are, John. Please.”

I don’t know what I was asking for, but John seemed to understand. My brilliant John.

I felt his finger bottom out inside me, then I felt him curve it and press forward.

“Jesus Christ!”

“ _Found it_.” he said in a low, sing-song voice. He continued to gently massage that sweet bundle of nerves for a minute as he repeatedly kissed the top of my head. “I love you, Sherlock. So much. Thank you for choosing me. I love you.”

I peppered kisses to his sternum, feeling tears begin to sting my eyes. “Thank you for accepting me.”

With a final kiss to the top of my head, he removed his finger and brought it back between us. He spat on it himself a few times, and then smeared it across an additional finger. He smiled at me as he brought the two wet fingers back to my hole and softly pushed them inside.

“Hang on, just bear down.”

This, to say the least, was a bit painful. I bit at my lower lip, squirming a bit on John’s chest. I moved my chin to his chest and rested it there as I looked up at John’s eyes. The blue of them being slowly being replaced by a pool of black.

“Just look at me, Sherlock. Watch my face. Look at my eyes.”

As if I had a choice. His face and eyes were all I could see. He was everywhere. His scent, his hands, his heartbeat. My bed, this whole room, our whole flat, was nothing but him.

I began to writhe during the stretch. His left hand at the nape of my neck, the two fingers of his right hand pressing and sliding inside of me. Every so often, a light graze across my prostate. He continued his worshipful ministrations for a few minutes until he suddenly stopped. His fingers slid from me and he put his hands under my armpits again and told me to sit up. He sat up with me and kissed my lips sweetly as I sat astride his hips. I could feel the hardness of our erections hot beneath me.

“Do you want to continue in this position or on your back?”

“You don’t want me on my stomach?”

“I’d really like to see you and your beautiful face while this is happening, if that’s okay?” I nodded. This man is the only person I know who is able to take my voice away, but do it in such a way that is so entirely liberating. He is mine and I am his. He’s showing me how to speak without saying a word.

He brings his left thumb to my chin and his right hand to my penis. A gentle stroke, his hand around my girth and I practically launch from the bed.

“Christ, you feel amazing in my hand, Sherlock.” A kiss to my lips. “So hard and heavy and hot in my hand.” I bring our foreheads together and begin to push forward in the tight ring of his hand.

“That’s so good, love. I’m so glad you’re enjoying this. I want you to take your pleasure. I’m here to give that to you.” I threw my head back and John immediately brought his lips to my throat, nipping and licking as my body instinctively thrusted my erection through John’s narrowing grip.

My hips stuttered, and John kissed my Adam’s apple. He spoke against my throat. “I think we should slow down a bit and get you in a more comfortable position, yeah?”

A bit breathless, I said, “Yes.” He let go of my cock and slid out from under my hips. He turned to look at my bedside table and selected a bottle of lubricant.

“So, I may or may not have had Mycroft send me the results of your last blood test. I asked him if I could see it last month after you were admitted to A&E after that suspect bit your arm in that alley. I hope you’re not mad.”

I shook my head no and smiled.

“I can look up the results of my last test from earlier this year if you’d like to see it.” He began to reach for his phone on the night table.

“I trust you. You’re it for me, John, regardless of what your results could be.”

“I’m clean, but thanks for the vote of confidence.”

He showed me the lubricant he thought would be the best for us and then looked at the four boxes of condoms. “To be on the safe side, we could use one of these…” he said as he showed me one of the boxes I’d chosen yesterday.

I shook my head with more vigour. “No. I want to feel everything, John. All of you.”

“All right. Can you come here for a second?”

I got to my knees and padded to him. He got to his own and guided me to my back and started to press me down to the mattress. He reached behind me and grabbed one of my pillows.

“Lift up, love.”

He tucked the pillow under my hips and put his hands on my knees. My legs spread without my brain telling them to. He knelt between my parted thighs and lifted my right leg under my knee, and hooked it over his left elbow. He brought his mouth to the inside of my thigh and lapped at the soft skin there. I looked down over my stomach and noticed John’s disregarded erection.

Through broken breaths of arousal, I inquired, “What about. About. You?”

He reached down to his groin and gripped his hardness and declaratively said, “Doing all of this for you, is doing this to me.” he said breathlessly as he gave his neglected cock a long stroke.

A breath caught in my throat at the sight. Seeing him like that, enjoying my body so much it caused him that much pleasure, it was difficult to fully comprehend. Most people don’t even like me, let alone have _this_ type of reaction.

John placed my right leg behind his bottom and then did the same with my left. He inched closer to me and retrieved the lubricant from the mattress where he’d placed it by my feet. I managed to get my arms and elbows underneath me and I tried to see what he was doing.

“Lie back, Sherlock. Just look in my eyes and see how much I love you. Just watch me, okay?”

I did as he said and heard the snick of the lubricant’s cap. “I’m going to warm this up a bit, yeah?”

I lifted my head and watched John pour the slippery liquid over his right hand. He worked over his palm with his thumb then poured out some more and made a fist.

“That should do it.” He winked at me and I smiled down at him. He reached forward and brought his slick fingers back to my entrance, and then two fingers were pressing inside me again. I held my breath at the pressure and contact as John slid around inside, spreading the slickness in and around my loosened hole. This was real. This was actually happening.  

He leaned back for the bottle again and poured out some more lubricant onto his hand and ran his hand up and down his swollen length.

“Sherlock look at me.” Our eyes met.  “You’re not my first, but I really want you to be my last, Sherlock.”

“You’re my first, and you’ll be my last, John.” I offered him my right hand and he brought it to his lips as the head of his cock slipped inside me.

The push of John inside me felt better than the depression of a needle’s plunger ever did.

I immediately tightened my legs behind John to push him further inside. Nothing before this moment, or for the rest of my life, will ever feel better than this.

“Open your eyes, Sherlock. I need to see your face. Am I hurting you?”

I shook my head side to side on my pillow. I couldn’t do that for him. Not at that moment. This memory will have its own floor in my mind palace. The look on John’s face, the emotion shown in his eyes. The throbbing heat of him inside me, filling parts of me that I didn’t realize were barren.  

“You’re not hurting me. You’re completing me.”

John growled low in his chest, then began to move. With every languid press of his hips, I felt a broken part of myself heal. I arched my back and John let go of my hand and bent forward and kissed my chest. He took my left nipple into his mouth and sucked at it lazily.

“Sherlock, you feel wonderful. So hot, so tight all around me. You’re exquisite, my love. My beautiful, brilliant, magnificent, man.”

I’ve always basked in John’s praise of me. This was no exception. As he licked and kissed all over my chest, murmuring all of those delicious declarations, I lifted my legs further up his back and crossed my ankles, pulling him as tight to me as I could. I began to pant. I could barely breathe. I felt a fission of heat coursing through my veins, spreading throughout my body, similar to the climax of cocaine. But cocaine never felt this good.

“John. John John…”

“I know, Sherlock, I can feel it happening inside you.  I can feel you tightening around me.” He lifted himself off of my chest and put his hands on the tops of my thighs. “I can feel your thighs quivering, sweetheart. You don’t have to hold on for me. Just let yourself feel it. Don’t fight it, just let your body feel all of this.”

He picked up the pacing of his thrusts, angling now for my prostate. My breath came in short gasps as the head of his cock bumped the bundle of nerves. I let out a shout then bit my lip in mortification.

“No, none of that. Let me hear you.”

He began to roll his hips, a delicious slide. “JOHN! JOHN! JOHN!” I felt a lightness in my head, a shimmering whiteness behind my eyelids. He was making me see stars.

“Come, Sherlock. It’s okay. Please, let me watch you come.”

My hands gripped the fitted sheet, it twisted in my grasp. I pressed my knees tightly against John’s sides and my vision went black. I felt my release splash up my chest, warm and sticky. I’d apparently lost consciousness for six seconds. John made sure to tell me about that later.

I came to from the sensation of John’s tongue lapping at my release.

“Sherlock, you taste so good. My beautiful man. I love you. SHERLOCK. I. LOVE. YOU.” His hips stuttered and I felt the thickening of his cock, followed by the warmth of his release inside of me. Despite my blissed-out body, I managed to lift my arms and lock them behind John’s back, drawing lazy circles on his back as he rode out the tremors of his climax inside of me. I kissed the top of his head as he shuddered on top of me.

“Thank you, John. Thank you for loving me this much.”

“You don’t have to thank me for loving you, Sherlock. You deserve everything I can give you. I should thank you for letting me.”

“You just did, John.” I raked my fingers through his golden-grey hair, letting our breathing slow to normal. I wish I could have kept him inside me forever, but he was becoming a bit heavy. I released him from my legs and set my feet down on the mattress. As he slipped from me, he pushed to his elbows and proceeded to lick my chest clean. I’ve never seen something be so depraved but also spectacular at the same time.

“That was the most resplendent thing that has ever happened to me, in the entirety of my life.” I declared without a bit of shame.

“I would have to agree.” John said as he pressed a quick kiss to my chin. He sat up and reached back for the duvet that we somehow pushed to the end of the bed. He crawled around my sated body, draped the duvet over me and then settled on my right side, his head on my now clean chest, his left leg between my knees. He draped his left arm across my stomach again and pulled me close to his sweat-dampened chest.

“Everything I said before, during all of that, I meant it, you know? I really do think all of those things about you. It’s not just the post-orgasm hormones making me say this to you right now. You are revered, Sherlock Holmes. I meant, and mean, every word I said to you.”

He pressed his cheek against my chest and sighed.

“I know that now, John. I think you were finally able to convince me how much I am cherished.”

I brought my left hand to his hair and tangled my fingers in his sweat-dewed strands. I felt his body relaxing against me, the sweet pull of sleep slowly taking him from me.

As I laid there, cradling this wonderful man in my arms, I stared at the ceiling. This man is the North to my South: A bright light to guide me. The sun to my moon: I absorb his light and reflect it back to him in the best ways that I am capable. The poetry to my prose: The articulator of my true words when I am unable to say them aloud. The anchor to my adrift ship: I will always need him to centre me, to show me the right way to travel after floating aimlessly for so long.

I could feel John’s rhythmic breathing warming my neck and chest. I pulled the duvet to my collarbone and brought my right arm to lie on top of John’s left. I turned my head to the left, settling my lips against John’s brow. I closed my eyes and let sleep take me to be with John in my dreams.

**Author's Note:**

> I love kudos and adore comments, so let me know what you think if you finished the story! Thanks for reading!


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